Think of Me
by Gin and Kerosene
Summary: Four years before the chandelier came crashing down, Meg Giry was the only girl who loved Erik. Then Christine came into the picture...and Meg was only a memory. Based on the movie with some creative editing on the author's part.
1. Prologue

(This is my first attempt at a fan fiction, so please be nice to me. I've had a LOT of previous writing experience, but nothing actually….erm…..published, if this is what you could call it.)

Humming, he walked from his stone bedchamber to his writing desk, spotted with music. He shuffled through the papers, making them into a neat pile. The flame of the lone candle on his desk flickered. "Masquerade…" he hummed. "Paper faces on parade…masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you…"

Almost out of habit, he glanced up from an unfinished piece of music--something that drove him crazy-- to the mirror hanging over the desk on the wall. It was covered in a black velvet sheet, something Meg had done for him. She had found him cowering in a corner, frightened of the face in the mirror that wouldn't go away. This was only a few weeks ago--and yet this girl saw no fear at this face. He was nine years older than her at 22, and she only 15, yet this face terrified him, the way the candle's weak light cast eerie shadows over the swollen flesh of the face he knew to be his own.

He pulled the sheet down slowly until the fabric snapped over the top of the frame and fell onto the table. There was the face, made alarming once again. This time, instead of hiding from himself, he studied it. It was only the one side that was misshapen, really. If he turned his head to the right--he did so-- you wouldn't know that his right side was malformed. He was normal looking, and actually quite handsome. Turning his head again to fully face the mirror, he noticed what seemed to be an open wound in the pockmarked flesh. It was raised like a scar, but almost oozing. He ran his fingertips down the open flesh to find that it was not open, and that his cheek was numb. He sighed and pulled his hand away from his face to run it across the cool silver surface of the mirror.

"Erik?" A young voice spoke behind him. "What're you doing?"

He abruptly turned to face the young woman, for that was what she was becoming. He long blonde hair had been pulled back, yet the long locks could be seen from the front. He smiled at her. She smiled back, but a light blush spread along her cheeks, but she hid this by pretending to straighten her skirt. Her dress was a full skirt-- something she had begged her mother for-- black, to match her black bodice. The entire dress was trimmed in gold, and it matched her honey colored hair. In her hand was a black mask with gold ribbon trim.

"Meg, you look stunning," Erik said as he stepped forward to take both her hands in his. She looked from their hands to his eyes and nodded, at a loss of words. He continues smiling as he said, "The boys are definitely going to fall for you with just one glace. You're becoming an exquisite young woman, Meg."

Her smile faded lightly at this speech proclaiming her splendor. She was glad that he thought her beautiful, of course, for only his opinion mattered to her. But she still wished that he saw her as not only lovely, but completely and utterly dedicated to him. She was the only one who saw the man behind the monster-- not even her mother could stand to look at Erik sometimes.

"Thank you," she said sweetly. "But I'm afraid that the only boy--man-- that I care about can't see how much I love him." Erik released her hands as she turned away from him, only to glance behind at his eyes. He met her gaze and smiled again.

"Well then," Erik sighed. He turned to grab his cape and fasten his black mask on his face, hiding the malformation on his right cheek. He turned to face her once again, completely gorgeous with a brooding mouth and brown hair, and his blue-green eyes showing through the mask like windows to the talented and caring man within the grotesque shell everyone else saw. Meg was the only one to ever see into those windows. Erik paused to meet her gaze as he said, "He'll be awfully jealous to see you at the masquerade with me."

NOTE AS OF 8/23/05:  
Okay, okay, I keep changing Meg's age. Shut up. My logic behind the madness is this….  
Mme. Giry found Erik at 15 and he was six. She got married a few months later-- hey, it wasn't as if she didn't have her own life here, she was betrothed-- and had Meg the next year. Mme. Giry would be 30 at this time….and, yes, I bumped up the actual character's ages, which I might get sued for, seeing as I don't have any licensing for them, but…it's my story. Age problem solved.

Lotte Love, Caitlin


	2. Paper Faces on Parade

"And, of course, you can see why I love the masquerade season," Erik said happily as he stepped from the passageway into Madame Giry's quarters. She beamed at him as he entered, because he looked absolutely gorgeous now that…well, now that his face was hidden. Mme. Giry smiled as best she could despite the horrible thoughts she was having about the sweet and talented man she had saved.

Erik made a show of escorting Meg into her mother's chamber, more for Meg than for her mother. Meg smiled at him, then looked at her mother, who was looking at them in a dreamy sort of way. She snapped out of the dreamy moment when Meg said, "Um, Mother, shouldn't we get going…?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Mme. Giry smiled at the two of them. "Christine is waiting for us!"

"Christine?" Erik asked the two of them. Neither responded. He pulled Meg back from the door just as Mme. Giry went into the open corridor. "Meg, you didn't tell me anyone was accompanying us this year! The least you could've done was warn me, like a few years ago when that boy was with us.."

"Erik, relax. Christine is a dancer here. She's very nice, and as long as you don't take off your mask, nothing will go wrong for us tonight." She smiled at him before mentally adding, '…nothing will go wrong. Tonight I will tell you how I feel….maybe.' He smiled back before offering his arm, which she took, and they followed Meg's mother to the stage. They were able to walk through the empty theatre without the usual battle of the stage crew. Erik paused in the center aisle of the house, looking up at the massive chandelier above them.

"I've never really seen it from this angle," he murmured, but he words echoed. Meg stopped to wait for him, as she was a few paces ahead of him, and she listened to him. She knew there was more. "I'm always on the balcony next to it, or in one of the boxes, or in the ropes above the stage…but never under it, like this." He tore his eyes away from the massive sparkling fixture above to meet Meg's eyes. He was quite serious as he said, "It's frightening to think that it could easily come crashing down one day. If one link of the supporting chain breaks, and…well…goodbye opera."

Meg nodded, not quite grasping what he was saying. 'Was it possible for something like that to happen?' she wondered. 'Would someone, could someone….why would anyone want the beautiful light fixture above to come down? No…no, of course not. That would be past the breaking point, and someone would stop them before they could even threaten something like that…right?' She shook these thoughts from her head. Erik beckoned her to the waiting carriage outside.

The drive to Meg's aunt's house was a lovely testament to the beauty of the French countryside. The wide open spaces, the tree lined drives to the private villas and the family-owned wineries…and, of course, this time of year you could see, hear, and even smell the parties going on for the Masquerade balls! How Meg wished she could stop at every party along the road they were traveling to meet all of the fascinating people of the countryside, but they were in a time frame: they had to get to her aunt's sprawling vacation home earlier than everyone else to help set up the decorations and play the part of welcoming hosts. Even if Mme. Giry and her daughter couldn't afford such a home, they could at least play the part of gracious hosts at Angelique's.

As soon as they were within hearing range of the main house, Angelique came running from the house, despite her still in a dressing gown and a silk robe. Her wet chestnut hair fell from the towel it was wrapped in as she ran, and it fluttered out behind her, the dripping wet locks leaving a sparkling trail of water on the packed dirt pathway.

"Hello, family!" she called as she finally came to a stop in front of the carriage doorway. Before anyone could say a word, she had the door open and was ushering them out into the cool air of sunset. "Marie, my lovely sister!" to Madame Giry as she gave her hands a squeeze; "Oh, Meg, you've gotten so tall and lovely! Your mother's dance teachings have paid off in your posture." to Meg with a kiss on the cheek; "Oh, Erik, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you outside of that dreadful opera house!" to Erik, but she merely smiled at him in her sensitive, caring way. Her eyes lingered on him for a second longer in a bittersweet way until she finally gave a big sigh.

"Now then….Meg, follow Janet to the east wing guest room so she can do your makeup," gesturing to a twentyish maid that appeared behind her. "That stage makeup, however lovely on stage, isn't appropriate for a party such as this." Meg nodded silently, but flashed a sly smile to her aunt as she followed Janet into the house. Agelique turned to her sister. "Marie, you can take control of the kitchen. You are much better controlling teenage girls in harsh conditions than I am. Oh, those girls are good for making small dinners, but for a GALA such as this…?" Marie also nodded silently and, like her daughter, smiled at her younger sister as she went into the house. Finally, turning to Erik, she said, "Dear, you can go wherever you wish. I know if I forbade you to enter a part of the house you'd find a way in there anyway, so go ahead and explore, like you usually do. We moved the piano to the front parlor…just for you." And with a wink, she turned, picked up her towel, and left Erik to himself. After all, he was her "son". He had been for the past seventeen years.

Erik was left alone under the orange-streaked sky of dusk as the sun fell behind the hills in the distance. After making certain he was alone, he sighed and took off his black silk mask. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, humming one of his unfinished tunes, imagining if he could see the sky like this every night, if he didn't live in the opera house. He'd be married, he supposed, to a beautiful singer…and live in the country when she wasn't singing, in a house like this. After all, even if he didn't live in the opera, he would be tied to it somehow. He couldn't live without the music of the opera in his life. In fact, he could barely imagine life outside it: it was a harsh dose of reality to see, at times like these, that the world wasn't made of wooden backgrounds, bright lamp light, and music…or, in his case, darkness, candlelight, and fearing the face in the mirror. Erik sighed again as he put his mask back on and went toward the house.

Erik headed to the front parlor and sat at the piano immediately. His eyes closed as his fingers brushed the keys, knowing every chord, ever note, as if the piano was a part of him. He played the first few bars of the same unfinished song he had been humming earlier, until the song ended where he had left it. But, instead of stopping, he let his hands wander the board, finishing the song for him as if they were the composers and not him. When he felt that the song would end, he opened his eyes to see a young woman, of about Meg's age, leaning up against the other side of the piano. She held her chin in her hands, her big eyes glassy and full of awe, and her curly brown hair framing her face perfectly. The room froze as he met her eyes, and the world melted away.

"That… that was beautiful," she finally said. As soon as he heard her voice, one thought overcame him: 'She is music.' Erik smiled at her, and she smiled back. "I'm Christine," she finally said, offering his hand. He took it gently and kissed it, never looking away from her eyes.

"I'm Erik, Marie's son. I live in the city near the opera."

She seemed a touch speechless as she said , "It's very nice to meet you, Erik. I'm spending the week here…because…Meg is my friend, and I am like her sister to your mother…."

And as Meg entered the room to show her love how beautiful she had become in a matter of hours, her heart broke to see the man she would gladly die for facing her best friend, in a gaze she knew all too well as love at first sight. He sent her an indifferent glance as he got up to walk with Christine through the house.

And Meg was left standing there, all alone. Erik, her escort, her love, the man she would do anything for…left her, for a girl he had been apprehensive about meeting in the first place, her best friend. She stood there in the archway for a moment, unaware of anything around her, before running into the back garden, where she spent the remainder of what was supposed to be the night of her life…all alone.


	3. Every Waking Moment

'How could he have done this to me?' Meg questioned. It was near two a.m., three days after Angelique's Masquerade ball, and Meg hadn't yet spoken to Erik since that night. 'He was so caring before he met…before Christine found him. Then…she…and him…Why would be leave me like that?' Her mind kept wandering, and she couldn't concentrate on sleep. Finally, after weighing the options, she couldn't wait until morning to do what she thought to be right: talk to Erik. Meg slipped on a robe and made her way through the long tunnels to Erik's hideaway.

Erik didn't have a timepiece of any kind to tell him what part of the day it was. He simply relied on Meg or Marie to tell him what time it was when they brought him his meals. Of course, not much talking had been going on between him and Mme. Giry since the ball. 'Why?' he wondered. 'What have I done that would make Marie so…distant? And Meg hasn't even come down to see me since that night…' So, he didn't know why he was so tired, if it was night or morning, or anything as he sat down to finish some music.

Suddenly, Erik heard water sloshing gently behind him and the creak of wood as someone go out of the boat and stepped into his lair. Meg plopped down on the armchair that was sitting next to his desk, but she remained silent. She only looked at him and bit her lip, and at that instant Erik knew that the something upsetting Marie had to do with Meg.

"What did I do?" he asked softly, not looking at her until he sensed her looking away.

"What did you do? What did you do!" Meg finally met his gaze. "How can you not know? Did you even realize that I--me, your date-- had left the party before it even started?" Erik looked at her blankly, mouth slightly gaping at seeing this gentle girl so impassioned about something he didn't know anything about. "No…no, you didn't notice. You didn't even realize I had gone, because you were…You were with…" Biting her lip again, Meg looked around for something, but she didn't know what. She just sighed, since she couldn't bring herself to say that Erik had abandoned her at her own party for Christine. Meg got up and walked away a few paces, her back to him and her arms crossed under her chest with he head down, trying to find what to say. Finally, realizing there was nothing she could say, she looked at him with tears in her eyes as she let out the sob she had been choking back since the night at her aunt's home.

"Meg…Meg, what is it?" He stood and went to her, and she fell into his arms. As she stood sobbing into his chest, he said, "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I would never want to hurt you. You've been so nice to me, even when you were a baby…you were never scared of me." He pushed her back slightly so she could look into his unmasked face as he told her, "Meg, you can't know how much you mean to me." Her eyes filled with more tears at this and she shook her head.

"I can't know," she whispered. "Because you've never shown me how much you care."

Erik cupped her chin in his hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs, his face merely inches away from hers as he whispered, "I do care."

"Prove it."

"I don't know how other than by telling you."

"Can I show you how much I care?"

"Of course…"

Before the last word left his mouth, her lips met his. She put all of her feelings toward him into the kiss, and she could only hope that he understood how much she loved him. It was the only way she could tell him, other than by saying it, and she couldn't very well do that. Meg pulled away slowly, and pressed her forehead against his, their noses brushing against each other gently. She gave him a moment to register what had just happened.

After a pause, he finally asked in a whisper, "Where were you that night?"

"Stepping aside, letting you have what you wanted. I was in the back garden all night, waiting," she whispered back, not wanting to break the silence.

"What were you waiting for?"

"I don't know…For something to happen, to find someone interesting to talk to…" She pulled back to look him in the eye. "You."

He took a step back from her and looked down, away from her in guilt. "I…um, had I known that you were feeling this way, I wouldn't have…I mean, I would have just…"

"No," she interrupted him. "I want you to be happy above all else." He looked at her as if for the first time realizing that the might care more than she let on, despite the kiss. "I'd do anything for you."

Erik's look didn't change after she said this. He just stared at her. Finally, in embarrassment, Meg fled from the chamber, leaving Erik alone in the dark once more.


	4. Angel Of Music, Speak

Christine sat in the empty chapel praying for her father's soul. It had been a while since she had done this—her normal ritual of everyday prayer had been interrupted by long, hard rehearsals to catch up from the break of the Masquerade ball season— so tonight she stayed longer than she normally would have; her father must have been missing her. The blisters from her newly-made pointe shoes were throbbing, and to walk more than a few feet was absolute agony for her…not to mention the aches of pulled and strained leg muscles from the prolonged rehearsals. Somehow, though, this simple act of speaking to God and her own father through prayer made the pains numb and brought on a sweet, simple nirvana of the physical and spiritual beings.

Her eyes closed and her mouth speaking soundless words to God, she could almost see her father as he was in life seemingly ages ago. He smiled at her in her mind's eye and blew her a kiss, just before the sound of laughter from the rowdy stage crew brought her back to where she really was…a dirty chapel underneath the famed Opera Populaire inhabited by only rats and those faithful to God. Christine suddenly felt the sting in her legs as her eyes opened to the dim silence of the chapel. The nirvana gone, she sighed as she sat down on the moist stone floor and stretched her legs. Humming a tune from a dream, she dared to do something only done on the rooftop of the opera house when she was sure she was alone…

Erik was making the rounds through the secret passageways of the opera to make sure no one had found something they shouldn't have, such as a way into his lair. In the back of his mind, he was contemplating the kiss Meg had given him the week before. Could she have really meant that she loved him, or was he reading into things? The kiss could've meant something else, after all, but what? His head ached from thinking so much about it. His music was suffering, too: he couldn't finish one sheet since she had visited him. And not only was that troubling him, but also the thought of Christine. She was somewhere in the Opera Popuaire, to be sure, and at every turn and in every corridor he hoped to catch a glimpse of her beautiful form.

It was nearing midnight when he heard a hauntingly beautiful verse sung, echoed through the chamber he was in: "_…all I want is freedom, a world with no more night…and you, always beside me, to guard me and to hide me…_" It came from the chapel, to which Erik hurriedly traveled to. The song became clearer and more beautiful with each step he took, and upon reaching the entrance to the chapel, he stopped and slid open a small window in the wall, large enough for his face to be visible. He gazed upon the girl with the angelic voice…his Christine, the one he knew to be music when he first heard her speak.  
"_…that's all I ask of you_," she finished, and as her echoes faded away Erik spoke without meaning to.  
"That was beautiful. You really are very talented." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he knew he had made either the biggest mistake of his life or the best action he could possibly take. Strangely, he couldn't tell which one it was.

Christine looked extremely frightened for a moment before hesitantly responding. "Who…who are you, what are you?" She looked around the chamber for the source of the voice, and when finding none, she visibly shook while she said, "Are you a ghost?"

"No…" Erik started, feeling horrible to have frightened the beautiful young woman, so he hurriedly tried to think of an explanation.

She stopped shaking and her face brightened. "Are you an angel, then?" He was silent as she looked about the room for him, and then found his face high upon the wall in front of her. "I can see you

"You could call me an angel," Erik responded slowly.  
"Are you an angel of music?" Christine asked hopefully, her eyes suddenly sparkling with hope in the weak candlelight.

"You could call me that if you wanted to, also, but—"

"Did my father send you? When he died, he promised to send the angel of music to me for vocal training…you _must_ be him then! Who else could you be but my promised angel of music?"

There was a pause before he finally said, "Yes, Christine, I am your angel of music, and I will be there for you always."

"…and then he told me that he would be there for me always!" Christine finished in a hushed tone to Meg, who had been rudely awoken from a rather pleasant dream involving Erik. The sleepy-eyed Meg stared at the wide-eyed Christine for a moment before lying back onto her bed and pulling her covers up to her chin.

With her eyes closed, she murmured, "Christine, you were dreaming. You must have fallen asleep while praying, then you woke up after having that crazy dream. You then must have ran up here, thinking you had an extremely religious experience, then rudely awoke me." She opened her eyes and looked at her friend. Christine didn't look as if she had fallen asleep at all that night.  
"I have been awake since five o'clock this morning, and I didn't fall asleep once," she said coldly. "I _know_ what I heard, weather you want to believe me or not. My father has come through in his promise and he sent me the angel of music to protect me. I thought that if you were really that good of a friend you would believe me, but I can see that you really—"

"No, Christine. I believe you, but it's so late, how do you know you didn't simply fall asleep? Rehearsals have been very tiring lately," Meg interrupted. Christine took a breath to defend herself once more, but simply sighed instead. The two girls merely looked at each other for a few moments before Meg broke the silence. "So…what did this supposed angel of music look like, if you did see him at all?"

"He was just a floating face high up on a wall…masked, but handsome…" she said with a far off look and a dreamy smile. "…really a perfect angel…"

Meg froze. The only masked man she knew of was Erik, and he really couldn't be that stupid to try something like this…could he? But it _did _sound somewhat accidental for him to talk to her. 'Please let him have not done this…Please, make it that she only was dreaming,' she half prayed. Quietly, she said,"...Maybe you should go talk to my mother about this. She'll be able to tell the difference." Christine smiled, nodded happily, and then rushed down to her second mother's quarters.

Marie was laying in bed wide awake, trying to figure out somenew choreography for her dancers when she heard a knock on her door. It opened before she could respond, and Christine walked in. She went to the bed as Marie sat up, and then Christine sat down quickly. She looked both worried and excited, and before Marie could say a word, she said quickly, "The angel of music cameto me. He told me he would be there for me always, and he's come to train me." Christinemet Marie's eyes. "Have you ever seen or heard of a masked angel before?"

Marie paused, knowing who this angel was, before saying, "I have, and I know of him also. He has spoken of you before to me. He is indeed real, and he asked me to give you lessons. This angel is a great musician and teacher, the one that weaves the music into all of our lives." She paused again. "I will arrange the lessons with him, when I see the angel of music tomorrow. He is, indeed, your promised angel."


End file.
